


how can we fight when i'm too busy loving you?

by smallbump



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: M/M, small hints of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallbump/pseuds/smallbump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>phil is hurt but he's also in love, like he always has been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how can we fight when i'm too busy loving you?

Dan should’ve been nothing but Phil's annoying, younger neighbour; someone that Phil’s parents forced him to play with sometimes when there was a gathering in the neighbourhood. Dan wasn't because Phil only found Dan endearing and quite frankly, a great friend that he had a lot of common with despite the age gap of four years and four months (and 12 days, but who is counting). Maybe Dan was mature for his age or maybe Phil was very immature for his age. Dan sometimes teased Phil about being so childish but he knew that no matter what Dan said, deep down he was grateful.

Phil bought Dan’s first anime comic book. Phil taught Dan about Pokémon. Phil went with Dan for his first time seeing a film at the cinema. Phil helped Dan ride his bike and put a plaster on his knee when he fell and scraped it.

Their parents always smiled and said, _“Phil, you’re like Dan’s second brother,”_ but he wasn’t. Because brothers don’t move far away from each other when they’re ten and six years old. Brothers don’t leave each other. Brothers stay in touch. Phil and Dan did not.

 

Phil was eighteen when he saw Dan for the first time again after waving to Dan’s reflection in the lateral rear mirror of their car when he was ten. He saw Dan walking down the street, hand in hand with a blonde, petite girl. Dan was fourteen at the time, he hadn't changed much since he was six and that made Phil happy. That his Dan was staying the same.

Phil’s hair was black instead of ginger, so that’s why Dan didn’t notice him. (That’s what he makes himself believe as he’s lying in bed, thinking about his old best friend for the first time in eight years.)

They crossed each other a few times after that, Phil looked away, turned around and walked a different direction every time. He didn’t know why, he only knew that he couldn’t meet Dan when his hand was in a girl’s firm grip because Phil didn’t know what kind of hug he would embrace Dan in. He hadn’t known back then why he was as upset as he had been when he was only 10 years old and his best friend left him, but he began to realise now. Feelings never really fade, do they?

Phil has moved on, in a way, with new friendships and relationships. But maybe, he should stop and go back instead. Because even though he has moved on, he really has, he was thinking of Dan way too often. He didn’t know what kind of feelings that was running around in his mind and slowly but surely, he was going crazy. Phil decided to never look away again whenever Dan was near.

Two years went by before Phil had to not look away again. He saw a tall, lanky teenage boy with his head in a book as he sat on a bench in the park. Dan looked exactly like Phil imagined him to. Converse, skinny jeans and a t-shirt with some weird print on it, to top it of he had a leather jacket on. Dan looked good. His fringe had fallen down and covered his eyes. Phil wondered if they were still dark-chocolate coloured, Phil wondered if his dimples were as deep as they were when he was six. But mostly, Phil wondered who Dan was nowadays.

He needed to figure that out so Phil went up to the bench where Dan was sitting, now sixteen years old and not holding anyone's hand. So maybe it didn’t matter what kind of hug Phil would give him.

"Dan?" He questioned, while sitting down and pulling his backpack off his back at the same time.

Dan closed his book without putting a mark of some sort to where he was, which annoyed Phil. But when he noticed it was a history text book, he realised it probably didn't matter.

"Yeah, wha-?" Dan's eyes (still chocolate coloured) grew wider as he slowly understood who was sitting beside him.

"Phil," he said flat.

Phil tried to smile but it was hard, it was weird. Should he go? This was a mistake surely.

Dan uttered his name again, this time with more emotion - happiness - and Phil got another answer, that yes, Dan's dimples were still as deep, if not deeper, into his cheeks. He wanted to poke them, like he did when they were kids and Dan was annoyed with him, he poked the small dimples until it made Dan laugh again. One time he kissed his finger before poking and that was the first time Dan ever hugged him. They had been four and eight.

"Hi Dan," he said instead, giving away a half-smile, millions of butterflies swirled around in his stomach _. Dan remembered him_ , and he was happy about that.

At the time, he had no idea that that would've been the beginning of the journey back to being best friends again.

Three weeks later, they kissed. It was in Dan’s bedroom on a Sunday afternoon, a few hours before Phil had to go home and they were lazily lying in bed, shoulders touching, fingers brushing against each other lightly. It was nice, a routine they had silently agreed on. They talked, but not much. Just the right amount of conversation floated between them in the quiet, messy room. Phil was, as always, dreading going home again. It had only been three weeks but three weeks was enough for him to know that he liked Dan. Liked him in a way that made his stomach curl up in butterflies when Dan smiled at him, he liked Dan in a way that he couldn’t help glancing over at him a hundred times and had to bite his lip not to break out into a huge grin, because Dan caught him sometimes and all he did was let out a short laugh, like Phil was being ridiculous.

Like he was thinking, _you’re a fool for liking me_. Because Dan didn’t like himself so why would Phil?

“It’s getting late,” Dan said matter-of-factly out of the blue,

It was, and Phil should probably be going soon. “I don’t want to go,” he muttered, turning to face Dan who looked at him with questioning eyes.

“I’ll see you in two days, though,” he responded and smiled.

“I don’t want to go, ever.”

Dan’s smile faded and suddenly he was looking nervous and shocked, not really knowing where to look or what to do as his eyes were unable to stay focused on anything really, his body went still. “Why?”

And there it was again, the look on Dan’s face that so obviously shows he has no idea how _good enough_ he is, how wonderful Phil thinks he is.

Phil was startled nonetheless, “Because I like you, Dan, I like you so much.”  
He doesn’t wait for a reply, for a reaction from Dan because he cannot wait any longer, _he needed to kiss him._ Also, he couldn’t stand hearing Dan mumble a ‘Why?’ whenever Phil compliments him or tells him he likes Dan.

Leaving no space between them, Phil pushed himself onto Dan and attached his lips on the younger’s. When he felt Dan kissing him back, every bone in his body that had been on tenterhooks loosened up. They fumbled with their hands, not knowing where to put them so they kind of, just fell on each other’s bodies, resting on each other’s hips and shoulders while fingers were stroking the pale skin.

“Please believe me when I say I do,” Phil almost pleaded when they tore apart, and as Dan’s wide smile made his dimples show, Phil kissed them softly. “I really like you, and I think, in a way, I always have.”

Dan finally spoke after moments of planting quick kisses on Phil’s lips, “I always liked you too, Phil.”

After that afternoon, they never stopped kissing whenever possible, and holding hands became a permanent thing.

On Dan's eighteenth birthday, they decided to move to London together and after a week of living together in a new flat, they had had sex in every room, on every single furniture and place they could find. They had no dinner table or chairs, barely any plates or glasses and pretty much everything was still in boxes. It was the best week of Phil’s life and he could happily let it be that way for several weeks without complaining, as long as he had Dan there to kiss him good morning, afternoon, evening and goodnight.

 

And now, four years after that, Phil wakes up beside Dan every single day, whispering _I love you_ to the half-sleeping boy that mutters an _I love you, too_ back at him before groaning and wanting to be left alone. Phil gets up while Dan drifts off to sleep for another hour or two.

Phil sits in their sofa, zapping through the channels on the TV while eating his breakfast. It seems to be the beginning of a very lazy Saturday as the rain is absolutely pouring down outside, so much he had to turn up the volume on the TV again and again. Though he hadn’t thought of doing anything today, Saturdays are their lazy Sundays since they had the Radio show the next day and then it’s back to work until Thursday. After the party last night, they’re both pretty knackered.  
Mostly he’s waiting for Dan to wake up and keep him company, Phil doesn’t like being alone in their flat, but he never admits that, not even to himself.

It doesn’t take long before Dan, finally, wakes up and as he plops down beside Phil, without saying a word, Phil’s body loosen up completely. It’s like he can finally relax once Dan is with him, even in his own home he feels weird when Dan is not there. And that is weird, he knows that, but he can’t help it. He can’t help it that after four years he is still this depending on Dan.

“Morning,” he says softly, ‘cause again – he can’t help it. There’s a lot of things he just can’t help doing or saying or feeling when it comes to Dan. Like for instance, he has to be sweet and soft in the morning because Dan is so tired and has a headache, something that he should probably look up but he doesn’t, no matter how much Phil nags him about it. Dan mumbles something that sounds like _Mornin’._

“When did you get to bed?”

There’s a small yawn that comes out before he replies, “Four…”

“Did you sleep?” Because even though Dan is in bed, he won’t always be sleeping, but if he did, he got around seven hours of sleep which is enough, but if he didn’t…

“From time to time, it was really warm.”

“We’ll turn the heat down for tonight,” Phil suggests, bringing Dan into his arms.

He sighs, “Don’t baby me, Phil” but he doesn’t move out of Phil’s arms, Phil’s fingers are stroking Dan’s t-shirt covered skin. Not noticing how stiff Dan became of his embrace.

Phil looks down at the boy that’s half-asleep in his lap and he frowns, he wants to say so much and do so many things to help Dan. He wants to help him sleep better, and feel better, be happier. If only he knew how.

“I’m not-“

There’s another sigh, “Yeah, you are, so stop.”

He kisses Dan on the top of his head, before letting go, there’s a sigh coming from Dan and he grunts something inaudible, and Phil thinks it’s probably for the best. The younger is excellent at throwing rude things in Phil’s face whenever he’s annoyed with him, thankfully even better at throwing compliments but that doesn’t seem to happen any time soon.

“I can make some breakfast, maybe panca-“

Dan shifts, groans and sighs, “I’m fine.” His body falls down to the sofa and he makes himself comfortable, not facing Phil anymore. He doesn’t have to say it, but he wants Phil to leave him alone.

It’s such a lie, he’s not fine. Dan never uses the word fine when he actually is fine, he’ll say something else. Like great or content or use an animal metaphor of some kind. Like I’m feeling like _a new-licked cat_ or _I am as happy as a dog catching sticks in the summer_. It doesn’t always make sense but at least it means that he is indeed fine. Phil doesn’t want leave, so for a while he leans against the doorframe in their lounge and watch as Dan falls asleep on the sofa, curling up a bit. He knows he is cold and Phil wants go get a blanket or his duvet to put on him, so Dan’s not cold, but he won’t.

He wants to cook Dan breakfast but he won’t.

Instead his head falls down as he makes his way into their room where he changes clothes. Dan doesn’t hear him putting on shoes and jacket. He doesn’t hear Phil opening and closing the front door, nor does he hear Phil whispering I love you, and it’s one of the first times Dan doesn’t say I love you too like he always, always does.

Phil walks down roads and through parks and into shopping centers and out of them again and up roads and down again. Luckily the rain is only drizzling now so he won’t get too wet and cold, depending on how long he will be walking for, of course. But Phil has never been a walker, not when he has to do it alone.

When he and Dan met up the first couple of times after they found each other again, when Dan was sixteen, their days would consist of them walking around in Manchester aimlessly before awkwardly having a cup of coffee somewhere and then they walked home to Phil’s and it all fell into how it should be. Them joking, kissing, cuddling and having fun. It wasn’t until a few months later when Dan told him about the bullying that he understood why Dan was so reserved in public. He’s not anymore though, but sometimes people stare too long and too much and Dan’s hand loses its grip around Phil’s and suddenly there’s space between them and sometimes, Dan even walks a bit quicker so they’re not even alongside each other. Phil knows Dan isn’t ashamed or embarrassed of him, he knows Dan doesn’t really want to do it but it’s a reflex from when he was younger.

From when Dan lived in a smaller city and being in love with someone of the same sex was a sin and disgusting. It’s because people called him names, laughed at him and bullied him for being who he is.

Dan’s just insecure. He cares too much, about what other people think. And sadly not enough about what he thinks or even what Phil thinks. Sometimes Phil takes Dan’s hand back into his and he squeezes it lightly, so Dan knows. Phil says I love you quietly, so Dan knows.  

As Phil keeps on walking down the current road he’s on, he can’t help but to think back on those walks and wish this had been one of them. Maybe because it might not fall into how it usually is when he gets back, and that terrifies him to no end.

He steps into a coffee shop, shivering slightly as he waits for his turn. The cereal he had earlier wasn’t enough to keep him full, his stomach is hurling. For a moment, he considers buying some food for Dan too but decides he shouldn’t. Dan didn’t want to be babied so Phil won’t. Instead of taking it home, he finds a table and eats his sandwich slowly, phone lying next to his cup of coffee without a single text coming in.

It’s been two hours. He checks twitter, Instagram, Facebook, he plays mobile games and he even reads the newspaper that somebody threw on the chair opposite him. For a while, it’s quite nice spending time alone like this. Phil feels like one of those hipster authors that spend their days writing on their novel in various cafés and libraries. Too bad he couldn’t even write to save his life. 

He greets a few people that listen to their radio show. They ask about Dan but Phil has no answers. He lies, says that Dan is sick.

Sick of me, he adds in his mind.

When Dan is mad at him, Phil isn’t himself, he doesn’t know how to cope, how to act really. These girls are going to notice something is off, he’s sure of it but they keep quiet as they hug goodbye and for that he is grateful.

It’s been three hours. Phil leaves the coffee shop, feeling worse than ever. He’s still hungry and he’s still in a somewhat fight with Dan.

He decides to take the tube home, because the rain is heavier now and Phil doesn’t want to catch a cold, again, and Dan hates being sick more than anything, and it’s most likely that if one of them gets sick, the other one gets it too. Because they just can’t stay away from each other. At least that’s how it used to be.

Now though, it’s been three hours and nothing. And sure, three hours isn’t that long and Dan’s probably been asleep for at least half the time, but still. Still.  
Phil hates any kind of argument, he wants to be happy and he wants Dan to be happy so he doesn’t argue no matter how much he wants to. That’s why he leaves. Like that’s going to make the problems disappear. He’s pretty sure Dan is still mad.  
Pulling up the hood on his jacket over his head, he walks up the stairway from the tube and hurries home.

He hears the TV is on when he gets inside, and suddenly he’s got a weird feeling in his stomach because this could go either way, really.

Dan is sat crossed-legged on the sofa, with a plate of pancakes in hand, eating it slowly while his gaze is pasted on the TV. It’s just another re-run of Master Chef on; Phil frowns at Dan’s concentration, but says nothing. He’s doing everything in his power not to burst out the million questions he has, the storm of concern and worry that is inside him and the thousand kisses he wants to give are not being given. Dan doesn’t want that, not today. It’s hard to know what Dan wants sometimes, because he can go from one mood to another in less than minutes and Phil loves that about him but he also hates that about him. And when Dan has been hurt or upset, it takes a while for him to forgive and forget so it’s not always just to kiss and make up, like Phil wants to.  
Because Dan puts so much weight in everything, a fight is never just a fight about something irrelevant. Everything is relevant. Always.

“There’s some left in the kitchen,” he says after a while, and Phil realizes he’s gotten the same concentration for Master Chef as Dan, whose gaze is still at the TV, but Phil’s eyes move over to Dan, offering a half-smile but get nothing in return. He wants pancakes though.

When he gets back, Dan’s finished with his and the plate is on the coffee table in front of them, the duvet is brought up over Dan’s legs to keep him warm.

He looks small from where Phil sits and Phil thinks back on sixteen year old Dan like he does way, way too often. He thinks about the broken, sad boy that Dan was back then. And how he slowly came back to life, taking in more and more colour each day.

And yes, Dan is still not completely healed, fixed, and complete, whatever you may want to call it, but he’s come a long way since then and Phil is so proud. Sometimes he hates himself and his family for not staying in touch with Dan and the Howell’s because Phil always wishes he’d been there for Dan, always. But this is what he got and that’s fine too. It could’ve been worse, it can always be worse.

As the day goes on, Phil gets more anxious and stressed over the fact that they’re not talking, they’re not even fighting anymore. It’s just complete silence throughout the entire flat. Dan offering pancakes and Phil’s small _Thanks_ is the last things they said to each other. This isn’t normal, it isn’t healthy, Phil thinks. While Dan is in the office, doing god knows what, he closed the door behind him which clearly means he wants space, Phil’s been cleaning the kitchen carefully. He vacuums too and cleans the bathroom as well, while he’s at it.

For dinner, he decides on pizza and buys two, Dan’s favourite. (That’s not babying, that’s being a good friend. Phil is a really good friend, that’s all.) When they arrive, he sets the table for two. Instead of knocking on the door and telling Dan in person about dinner, he sends him a tweet with far too many emoji’s.  
When Dan sits down opposite him, a tiny smile shows off on Dan’s face but he says nothing.

“Are you mad at me?” Phil hesitantly asks, eyes on Dan who is looking down on his plate.

He shakes his head a little, just noticeable only because Phil is practically staring at him. He’s starting to get mad at Dan though, he wants to throw his plate into the wall and scream into his face. _What is it? What did I do?_

“Did I do something wrong?”

Dan stays quiet, he shakes his head again. Phil wants to ask more but he’s not going to get any answers so what’s the point? 

They continue to eat in silence. Dan offers to do the dishes, obviously noticing that Phil has been cleaning all day. He didn’t mean for Dan to feel guilty about not helping out with cleaning because Dan does other things, like cooking and paying bills and the entire economic bit of their lives really, so it doesn’t matter that Phil does all the cleaning but Dan always seems to feel like he never helps out, which is wrong.

But Phil doesn’t want to add more reason to argue and fight so he lets him. He kisses Dan’s cheek so quickly that Dan doesn’t have time to pull away, “I love you,” Phil says quietly.

There’s a moment, _moments rather_ , before a very, very muffled, forced “Love you too,” escapes Dan’s lips.

Phil spends the rest of the evening in front of the TV, while Dan is in the office. It’s not unusual that they’re not always together all the time but after a whole day of barely, practically not speaking to each other at all, it is the worst feeling in the world. Phil can’t help but feel utterly lonely where he’s sat.

After a long shower, he decides to call it a night. The door to the office is closed so Phil doesn’t say goodnight to Dan, but it’s okay. He’ll do it when Dan comes to bed, which should be soon, he thinks and turns off his light, but leaves the one on Dan’s side on.

In his sleep, Phil dreams about earlier days, when Dan couldn’t go ten minutes without kissing him or holding his hand. When they said _I love you_ and _I love you too_ five hundred times a day because just once was not enough. But his dream takes a big turn and suddenly there are dragons and lizards and he’s in the jungle, fighting massive creatures and monsters.

Phil wakes up, tired but mostly confused about what his brain had just created. The alarm clock on his bedside table shows 2:43 and he groans. His first instinct is to turn over to Dan’s side and nuzzle into the younger’s warm body, throwing an arm around his waist and pull Dan close to him.

All he can feel when he stretches out his arm is a duvet, a cold duvet.

“Dan?” He croaks, not wanting to open his eyes, he barely can either way. As he moves further to Dan’s side, he notices there’s no one there and he’s a bit blinded by the light that is still on. As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, his night is awful too. Phil pulls Dan’s duvet into his arms and hugs it tightly, tears beginning to form. He really did not want to cry but he can’t hold it in any longer.

Dan didn’t even come to bed.

Getting out of bed, Phil still holds onto Dan’s duvet and he walks out in the corridor. There’s not a sound anywhere. The office door is open, but Dan isn’t there. When he walks into the lounge, he can see Dan lying on the sofa, sleeping softly. He’s in his pajamas bottoms and a t-shirt he sometimes sleeps in and Phil realizes, Dan decided to sleep here.  
He didn’t just fall asleep watching TV or something; he didn’t want to sleep with Phil.

He looks soft, where he lies. Dan has a way of looking soft and sensitive sometimes, his eyes has a sweeter look and his mouth twitch slowly without him realising. Even though it’s not like that, Phil always thinks he has to be gentle with Dan when he is like that, that Dan is fragile and Phil has to be careful or he’ll hurt him.  
That’s why Phil doesn’t dare to move from the spot he’s frozen in. Tears dry out against the duvet he holds close, breaths barely escaping from his slightly parted lips. It’s three in the morning and Phil cries for the first time in weeks, months? He hasn’t had a reason for it before, until right now.

Dan didn’t want to sleep with him and Phil has no idea why.

Phil is still standing frozen in the middle of the lounge, tears still rolling down his cheeks. He wants Dan’s hands to wipe them away and to hold his, fingertips tapping against fingertips soothingly. He wants Dan to kiss the sadness away, like he usually do and he wants to – needs to, hear him telling Phil he loves him and Phil wants to say he loves Dan, more. Because he thinks he does love Dan more, than anyone ever could. And he loves Dan more than Dan loves Phil and he’s hurting because it’s showing. Because Dan is sleeping on the sofa, like he did several years ago, when they weren’t sure about what they were together, when they hadn’t kissed yet.

They didn’t kiss once this Saturday. It’s been one day and Phil is craving Dan’s lips like it’s a drug and he’s addicted.

When Phil lies down on the opposite side of the sofa and puts the duvet on their legs, Dan doesn’t move, he keeps on sleeping, or pretends to. Phil is still shredding tears. He’s resting his legs against Dan’s and shivers when he feels how cold they are.

“I love you, Dan.”

Dan’s bare feet brush against his leg, “Love you too,”

His own crying mutes out Dan’s sobs.

 

Phil wakes up early the next morning, he’s not used to the sunlight blinding him at 7am. His whole body hurts from sleeping on the sofa and he promises himself to never sleep there again. As he sits up and rubs his eyes tiredly, he can feel Dan’s gaze on him so he turns over to him and greets his boyfriend good morning, who says it back with a low voice. Dan’s expression is a mix of worry and sadness, and it makes Phil’s heart ache. Most of all he just wants to pull Dan close to him and kiss every bad feeling away, so he does. He throws himself at the younger and dig deep into Dan’s lips with his own, thumbs brushing on each cheek.  
They keep on kissing, sloppy and slow, Dan gives in and he allows Phil to fall on top of him, they’re so close they hear each other’s heartbeats and can feel the other breathing heavily. Phil refuses to let go, but Dan breaks away harshly and bites his bottom lip as he looks away, his head is still in-between Phil’s hands and he can’t really move.

“Why are you crying?”

Dan sniffs. “You shouldn’t kiss me,” he answers in a quiet tone, and the tears build up, eventually escaping his eyes.

“Even if I wanted to?” Every word comes out in a whisper, Phil looks at Dan, who is still looking away, still crying, still not explaining anything and Phil has never been this confused.

He can feel Dan trying to move, so he loosens his grip and moves away from Dan so he’s half-lying on top of him, there’s only so much space on the sofa.

“You shouldn’t want to.” If Phil wasn’t confused before, he sure is now. “I kissed someone else,”

“One kiss is nothing,” Phil lies.

“It wasn’t just one kiss,”

“Did you sleep with them?”

They’ve never been good at fighting and arguing, they’re not yelling at each other because they’ve been angry, it’s just been a simple misunderstanding or disagreeing but the yelling fades away and they burst into laughter the next second, kissing away the loud words from each other’s lips the third.  
So maybe that’s why they can barely talk now because this should be a fight, supposed to be one. Instead Phil is frozen, like last night, but this time he doesn’t begin to cry.   
Dan continues to cry, Phil wipes away the tears the best he can even though he shouldn’t. One; because Dan cheated on him, he betrayed him, broke the trust. And two; Dan hates being babied.   
It’s only four years between them but it’s also _four years_ between them. Sometimes Phil forgets that Dan is an adult now and not a kid like he was back when they met up again. Back then Dan sometimes needed to be treated like he needed saving and caring, and Phil would happily provide that. Because Phil needed something in his life that needed him, something or someone that told him he was important.  
But Dan grew up and Phil grew older and so did their relationship and it’s not what it used to be, but it’s easy to forget that. 

“Say something,”

“I didn't sleep– he, do you hate me now?”

“Did you have sex with him?” Phil can’t decide if it would’ve hurt more if it was a girl but he really can’t think about that right now. 

Dan stays quiet a moment, chewing on his bottom lip that is trembling, “No,” he says and swallows, “He gave me a blowjob and nothing else happened.” 

“I can give you that,”

As Dan explains what happened (in too much detail for Phil’s liking but he stays quiet and tries to blur out the worst bits), Phil is trying so hard to decide how he is feeling about this because it all hurts so much. It’s hurting him but it’s also hurting Dan and it’s hurting them, their relationship.

“I should’ve been stronger and held back, I shouldn’t have allowed him to kiss me and I shouldn’t have kissed him back, I don’t even know why I did because it felt disgusting, but I did. You weren’t there, you left and I felt so alone and I was drunk and I–”

Phil wants to hug Dan but he also wants to punch him and knowing what to actually do is quite impossible. “That’s not an excuse,” is all he can manage to get out. He wants to say something better but there are no words that feel right in his mouth. He feels sick.  
Dan refuses to look at him, “I’m sorry.” 

“Do you think I'm boring? Do you wish I was more like that? Someone that sucked you off at a party somewhere,” 

Dan shakes his head, he moves closer to Phil and as their foreheads brush against each other he explains, “No! I want you to be exactly like you are,” he kisses Phil without being kissed back, “I was mad because you left me there when you know I don’t like parties very much and I didn’t want to be there either but you didn’t seem to want me with you, insisting I should stay longer.”

Phil shouldn’t be this close to Dan, shouldn’t be touching his skin because it hurts but he can’t move away because that would hurt too, and possibly even more. He needs to hear his lungs breathe and his eyes flicker and he needs Dan’s hands in his, more than he wants to be angry. He is angry but he’s also in love. 

“That’s not an excuse either,” he says, just to say something. He blames himself for leaving, when he probably should blame Dan for doing this to him, hurting him like he says he never will, or _this fucking guy_ for doing this to Dan – to them. 

Dan is crying again, he sobs against Phil’s neck, asking for forgiveness in muffled whispers.   
“Don’t leave me, Phil.” He peppers kisses against Phil’s skin, slowly and nervously. “Please don’t.”

It’s been months, maybe even years since any of them cried like this. Phil has forgotten what it’s like and he doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that looking into Dan’s cried-out eyes, red cheeks and messy hair hurts so he hugs him, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

In the back of his mind, he wants to make a scene and scream and fight and be angry but he’s not like that. He won’t do that.

“You always say we don’t have to do _everything_ together and you seemed so annoyed with me, I didn’t wanna bother you,” Phil says quietly, his voice breaks at the end.

“I mean we don’t have to be attached to each other’s hips all day every day, not that you should leave me alone at parties every time,”

Phil sighs, “I’m sorry–“

”No, no, no, don’t you dare fucking apologise to me, Phil.” Dan breaks their hug and grabs Phil’s face between his palms, kisses him hard and Phil doesn’t know whether to give in or get out. It feels so good, yet so wrong. Phil thinks about who kissed Dan last like this, with tongue and everything. It wasn’t him. He thinks about the fact that the person that touched Dan _like that_ last wasn’t him.

No. Fuck. He needs to get out of here. This is wrong, everything about them is wrong right now. Nothing makes sense anymore.

“I need to, uh– go,” It feels like he’s spinning, his head feels dizzy and he doesn’t know where to look or how to move his feet or what to do with his hands. He feels warm, his palms are sweaty and he furiously brushes them against his pajama bottoms “Get ready for – for ra-dio,” he stutters and walks away.

Dan is sat helplessly on the sofa, only the tears from his puffy eyes are moving as they’re rolling down his cheeks.

For once, Phil wish they didn’t have their radio show to do, that it was still like two years ago when Phil only worked with the content for the Radio 1 YouTube channel. When Dan was still working in an office somewhere and being paid next to nothing so he pretty much lived off his parents.  When they didn’t have to work _together._

When people didn’t know who they were at all, now it felt as if everyone knew them.

It’s not that he regrets telling Dan about the job offer at the radio and he doesn’t regret taking on more work than just the stuff he did on the internet and he really doesn’t regret building up what he and Dan has built, as they’re now radio profiles with a large fanbase, counting on them on being there.

It’s just that it would’ve been easier if he could go to work alone today. And toss away everything that has to do with Dan, just for a few hours.

Phil wonders how the hell they’re going to pull off being happy and normal on the show for two whole hours under these circumstances. 

He puts on clean clothes and kind of fixes his hair, it’ll do like this, he thinks as he checks himself in the bathroom mirror before going to the kitchen for breakfast and without thinking, he makes two cups of coffee and places two bowls on the table, he brings out Dan’s cereal along with his own and he puts two slices of bread into the toaster like this was just another Sunday morning.

Dan comes into the kitchen a few minutes after, dragging his feet along the floor boards. Neither had he done his hair as properly as he usually does and his outfit was the least exciting thing in history; black jeans and a black t-shirt but Phil said nothing. His own dark blue t-shirt wasn’t much either.  
He catches Dan’s glances a few times and thinks he’s about to say something, but there’s not a sound from the younger during the twenty minutes they spend eating.

Their home is silent for the remaining hour until they have to leave for work, as Phil is tying his shoes, Dan stands beside him, sniveling quietly.

“Phil, I–“

And there he is again, the young, sad and lost boy Phil had gotten to know all over again years ago. The boy that needed saving, the boy that needed comfort and love and someone to hold on to. Something that Phil had spent more than enough energy and effort on but it never seemed to be enough, it never seemed to be like it helped. Not for long.

 “I know I did wrong but I didn’t want to, not really, I was just, _not okay_.”

And it’s not until then that Phil realizes what happened, what really happened. What really was going on, and what Dan was feeling and why he was acting the way he was. Because Phil can’t actually fix Dan. No matter what he does, Dan will always be like this, more or less. He hadn’t realized until now. Phil’s job isn’t to fix Dan; it is to keep him okay for as much as possible.

Dan is hurt too, he always is in one way or another, but they’re both hurt in the worst way possible now and Phil doesn’t know what the right thing is in this situation. He grabs Dan and holds him for all he’s worth, letting all the tears stream down his cheeks until they dry out on Dan’s shoulder, he can feel Dan crying on him.

Phil builds up strength before pulling Dan out of his embrace and he looks his sad, lost boyfriend in the eyes and speaks;

“Dan, we’ll figure this out, okay? We will be okay, everything’s gonna be fine but we have to go now?” He kisses Dan fully on the mouth, hands firmly placed on his cheeks, so Dan can’t look away, “It’ll all be fine, okay?” Phil asks and reassures at the same time before kissing Dan again.

The slight nod from Dan is barely noticeable but he catches it before grabbing the younger into his arms as he hugs him tight and with a shaking voice he speaks low; “I love you.”

It takes a while but an “I love you too,” slips out eventually, as always.

**Author's Note:**

> http://phhantastic.tumblr.com/post/81788304046/ on tumblr :) 
> 
> thank you!


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